Awful Disclosures

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"Saint Francis, we are sent for you."

Several others spoke kindly to her, but two addressed her very harshly.
The poor creature turned round with a look of meekness, and without
expressing any unwillingness or fear, without even speaking a word,
resigned herself to our hands. The tears came into my eyes. I had not a
moment's doubt that she considered her fate as sealed, and was already
beyond the fear of death. She was conducted, or rather hurried to the
staircase, which was near by, and then seized by her limbs and clothes,
and in fact almost dragged up-stairs, in the sense the Superior had
intended. I laid my own hands upon her--I took hold of her too,--more
gentle indeed than some of the rest; yet I encouraged and assisted them
in carrying her. I could not avoid it. My refusal would not have saved
her, nor prevented her being carried up; it would only have exposed me
to some severe punishment, as I believed some of my companions, would
have seized the first opportunity to complain of me.

All the way up the staircase, Saint Francis spoke not a word, nor made
the slightest resistance. When we entered with her the room to which she
was ordered, my heart sank within me. The Bishop, the Lady Superior, and
five priests, viz. Bonin, Richards, Savage, and two others, I now
ascertained, were assembled for her trial, on some charge of great
importance.

When we had brought our prisoner before them, Father Richards began to
question her, and she made ready but calm replies. I cannot pretend to
give a connected account of what ensued: my feelings were wrought up to
such a pitch, that I knew not what I did, nor what to do. I was under a
terrible apprehension that, if I betrayed my feelings which almost
overcame me, I should fall under the displeasure of the cold-blooded
persecutors of my poor innocent sister; and this fear on the one hand,
with the distress I felt for her on the other, rendered me almost
frantic. As soon as I entered the room, I had stepped into a corner, on
the left of the entrance, where I might partially support myself, by
leaning against the wall, between the door and window. This support was
all that prevented me from falling to the floor, for the confusion of my
thoughts was so great, that only a few of the words I heard spoken on
either side made any lasting impression upon me. I felt as if struck
with some insupportable blow; and death would not have been more
frightful to me. I am inclined to the belief, that Father Richards
wished to shield the poor prisoner from the severity of her fate, by
drawing from her expressions that might bear a favorable construction.
He asked her, among other things, if she was not sorry for what she had
been overheard to say, (for she had been betrayed by one of the nuns,)
and if she would not prefer confinement in the cells, to the punishment
which was threatened her. But the Bishop soon interrupted him, and it
was easy to perceive, that he considered her fate as sealed, and was
determined she should not escape. In reply to some of the questions put
to her, she was silent; to others I heard her voice reply that she did
not repent of words she had uttered, though they had been reported by
some of the nuns who had heard them; that she still wished to escape
from the Convent; and that she had firmly resolved to resist every
attempt to compel her to the commission of crimes which she detested.
She added, that she would rather die than cause the murder of harmless
babes.

"That is enough, finish her!" said the Bishop.

Two nuns instantly fell upon the young woman, and in obedience to
directions, given by the Superior, prepared to execute her sentence.

She still maintained all the calmness and submission of a lamb. Some of
those who took part in this transaction, I believe, were as unwilling as
myself; but of others I can safely say, that I believe they delighted in
it. Their conduct certainly exhibited a most blood-thirsty spirit. But,
above all others present, and above all human fiends I ever saw, I think
Sainte Hypolite was the most diabolical. She engaged in the horrid task
with all alacrity, and assumed from choice the most revolting parts to
be performed. She seized a gag, forced it into the mouth of the poor
nun, and when it was fixed between her extended jaws, so as to keep them
open at their greatest possible distance, took hold of the straps
fastened at each end of the stick, crossed them behind the helpless head
of the victim, and drew them tight through the loop prepared, as a
fastening.

The bed which had always stood in one part of the room, still remained
there; though the screen, which had usually been placed before it, and
was made of thick muslin, with only a crevice through which a person
behind might look out, had been folded up on its hinges in the form of a
W, and placed in a corner. On the bed the prisoner was laid with her
face upward, and then bound with cords, so that she could not move. In
an instant another bed was thrown upon her. One of the priests, named
Bonin, sprung like a fury first upon it, and stamped upon it, with all
his force. He was speedily followed by the nuns, until there were as
many upon the bed as could find room, and all did what they could, not
only to smother, but to bruise her. Some stood up and jumped upon the
poor girl with their feet, some with their knees, and others in
different ways seemed to seek how they might best beat the breath out of
her body, and mangle it, without coming in direct contact with it, or
seeing the effects of their violence. During this time, my feelings were
almost too strong to be endured. I felt stupefied, and was scarcely
conscious of what I did. Still, fear for myself remained in a sufficient
degree to induce me to some exertion, and I attempted to talk to those
who stood next, partly that I might have an excuse for turning away from
the dreadful scene.

After the lapse of fifteen or twenty minutes, and when it was presumed
that the sufferer had been smothered, and crushed to death, Father Bonin
and the nuns ceased to trample upon her, and stepped from the bed. All
was motionless and silent beneath it.

They then began to laugh at such inhuman thoughts as occurred to some of
them, rallying each other in the most unfeeling manner, and ridiculing
me for the feelings which I in vain endeavoured to conceal. They alluded
to the resignation of our murdered companion, and one of them tauntingly
said, "She would have made a good Catholic martyr." After spending some
moments in such conversation, one of them asked if the corpse should be
removed. The Superior said it had better remain a little while. After
waiting a short time longer, the feather-bed was taken off, the cords
unloosed, and the body taken by the nuns and dragged down stairs. I was
informed that it was taken into the cellar, and thrown unceremoniously
into the hole which I have already described, covered with a great
quantity of lime, and afterwards sprinkled with a liquid, of the
properties and name of which I am ignorant. This liquid I have seen
poured into the hole from large bottles, after the necks were broken
off, and have heard that it is used in France to prevent the effluvia
rising from cemeteries.

I did not soon recover from the shock caused by this scene; indeed it
still recurs to me, with most gloomy impressions. The next day there was
a melancholy aspect over everything, and recreation time passed in the
dullest manner; scarcely anything was said above a whisper.

I never heard much said afterward about Saint Francis.

I spoke with one of the nuns, a few words, one day, but we were all
cautioned not to expose ourselves very far, and could not place much
reliance in each other. The murdered nun had been brought to her
shocking end through the treachery of one of our number, in whom she
confided.

I never knew with certainty who had reported her remarks to the
Superior, but suspicion fastened on one, and I never could regard her
but with detestation.

I was more inclined to blame her than some of those employed in the
execution; for there could have been no necessity for the betrayal of
her feelings. We all knew how to avoid exposing each other.

I was often sent by the Superior to overhear what was said by novices
and nuns: when they seemed to shun her, she would say, "Go and listen,
they are speaking English;" and though I obeyed her, I never informed
her against them. If I wished to clear my conscience, I would go to a
priest, and confess, knowing that he dared not communicate what I said
to any person, and that he would not impose as heavy penances as the
Superior.

We were always at liberty to choose another confessor when we had any
sin to confess, which we were unwilling to tell one to whom we should
otherwise have gone.

Not long after the murder just related, a young woman came to the
nunnery, and asked for permission to see Saint Francis. It was my former
friend, with whom I had been an assistant teacher, Miss Louise Bousquet,
of St. Denis. From this, I supposed the murdered nun might have come
from that town, or its vicinity. The only answer returned to the inquiry
was, that Saint Francis was dead.

Some time afterward, some of St. Francis' friends called to inquire
after her, and they were told that she had died a glorious death; and
further told, that she made some heavenly expressions, which were
repeated in order to satisfy her friends.

CHAPTER XII.

Description of the Room of the Three States, and the pictures in it--
Jane Ray ridiculing Priests--Their criminal Treatment of us at
Confession--Jane Ray's Tricks with the Nuns' Aprons, Handkerchiefs, and
Nightgowns--Apples.

The pictures in the room of the Three States were large, and painted by
some artist who understood how to make horrible ones. They appeared to
be stuck to the walls. The light is admitted from small and high
windows, which are curtained, and is rather faint, so as to make every
thing look gloomy. The story told us was, that they were painted by an
artist to whom God had given power to represent things exactly they are
in heaven, hell, and purgatory.

In heaven, the picture of which hangs on one side of the apartment,
multitudes of nuns and priests are put in the highest places, with the
Virgin Mary at the head, St. Peter and other saints far above the great
numbers of good Catholics of other classes, who were crowded in below.

In purgatory are multitudes of people; and in one part, called "_The
place of lambs_," are infants who died unbaptized. "_The place of
darkness_," is that part of purgatory in which adults are collected;
and there they are surrounded with flames, waiting to be delivered by
the prayers of the living.

In hell, the picture of which, and that of purgatory, were on the wall
opposite that of heaven, the human faces were the most horrible that can
be imagined. Persons of different descriptions were represented, with
the most distorted features, ghastly complexions, and every variety of
dreadful expression; some with wild beasts gnawing at their heads,
others furiously biting the iron bars which kept them in, with looks
which could not fail to make a spectator shudder.

I could hardly persuade myself that the figures were not living, and the
impression they made on my feelings was powerful. I was often shown the
place where nuns go who break their vows, as a warning. It is the
hottest place in hell, and worse, in every point of view, even than that
to which Protestants are assigned; because they are not so much to be
blamed, as we were sometimes assured, as their ministers and the Bible,
by which they are perverted.

Whenever I was shut in that room, as I was several times, I prayed for
"les ames des fideles trepasses:" the souls of those faithful ones who
have long been in purgatory, and have no relations living to pray for
them.

My feelings were often of the most painful description, while I remained
alone with those frightful pictures.

Jane Ray was once put in, and uttered the most dreadful shrieks. Some of
the old nuns proposed to the Superior to have her gagged: "No" she
replied; "go and let out that devil, she makes me sin more
than all the rest."

Jane could not endure the place; and she afterward gave names to many of
the worst figures in the pictures. On catechism-days she would take a
seat behind a cupboard-door, where the priest could not see her, while
she faced the nuns, and would make us laugh. "You are not so attentive
to your lesson as you used to be," he would begin to say, while we were
endeavouring to suppress our laughter.

Jane would then hold up the first letter of some priest's name, whom she
had before compared with one of the faces in "hell," and look so that we
could hardly preserve our gravity. I remember she named the wretch who
was biting at the bars of hell, with a serpent gnawing his head, with
chains and padlocks on, Father Dufresne; and she would say--"Does not he
look like him, when he comes in to Catechism with his long solemn face,
and begins his speeches with, 'My children, my hope is, you have lived
very devout lives?'"

The first time I went to confession after taking the veil, I found
abundant evidence that the priests did not treat even that ceremony,
which is called a solemn sacrament, with respect enough to lay aside the
detestable and shameless character they so often showed on other
occasions. The confessor sometimes sat in the room of examination of
conscience, and sometimes in the Superior's room, and always alone,
except the nun who was confessing. He had a common chair placed in the
middle of the floor, and instead of being placed behind a grate, or
lattice, as in the chapel, had nothing before or around him. There were
no spectators to observe him, and of course any such thing would have
been unnecessary.

A number of nuns usually confessed on the same day, but only one could
be admitted into the room at the time. They took their places just
without the door, on their knees, and went through the preparation
prescribed by the rules of confession; repeating certain prayers, which
always occupy a considerable time. When one was ready, she rose from her
knees, entered, and closed the door behind her; and no other one even
dared touch the latch until she came out.

I shall not tell what was transacted at such times, under the pretence
of confessing, and receiving absolution from sin: far more guilt was
often incurred than pardoned; and crimes of a deep die were committed,
while trifling irregularities, in childish ceremonies, were treated as
serious offences. I cannot persuade myself to speak plainly on such a
subject, as I must offend the virtuous ear. I can only say, that
suspicion cannot do any injustice to the priests, because their sins
cannot be exaggerated.

Some idea may be formed of the manner in which even such women as many
of my sister nuns were regarded the confessors, when I state, that there
was often a contest among us, to avoid entering the apartment as long as
we could, endeavouring to make each other go first, as that was what
most of us dreaded.

During the long and tedious days, which filled up the time between the
occurrences I have mentioned, nothing, or little took place to keep up
our spirits. We were fatigued in body with labour, or with sitting,
debilitated by the long continuance of our religious exercises, and
depressed in feelings by our miserable and hopeless condition. Nothing
but the humors of mad Jane Ray, could rouse us for a moment from our
languor and melancholy.

To mention all her devices, would require more room than is here
allowed, and a memory of almost all her words and actions for years. I
had early become a favourite with her, and had opportunity to learn more
of her character than most of the other nuns. As this may be best learnt
from hearing what she did, I will here recount a few of her tricks, just
as they happen to present themselves to my memory, without regard to the
order of time.

She one day, in an unaccountable humour, sprinkled the floor plentifully
with holy water, which brought upon her a severe lecture from the
Superior, as might have been expected. The Superior said it was a
heinous offence; she had wasted holy water enough to save many souls
from purgatory; and what would they not give for it! She then ordered
Jane to sit in the middle of the floor, and when the priest came, he was
informed of her offence. Instead, however, of imposing one of those
penances to which she had often been subjected, but with so little
effect, he said to her, "Go to your place, Jane; we forgive you for this
time."

I was once set to iron aprons with Jane; aprons and pocket-handkerchiefs
are the only articles of dress which are ever ironed in the Convent. As
soon as we were alone, she remarked, "Well, we are free from the rules,
while we are at this work;" and although she knew she had no reason for
saying so, she began to sing, and I soon joined her, and thus we spent
the time, while we were at work, to the neglect of the prayers we ought
to have said.

We had no idea that we were in danger of being overheard, but it
happened that the Superior was overhead all the time, with several nuns,
who were preparing for confession: she came down and said, "How is
this?" Jane Ray coolly replied, that we had employed our time in singing
hymns, and referred to me. I was afraid to confirm so direct a
falsehood, in order to deceive the Superior, though I had often told
more injurious ones of her fabrication, or at her orders, and said very
little in reply to Jane's request.

The Superior plainly saw the trick that was attempted, and ordered us
both to the room for the examination of conscience, where we remained
till night, without a mouthful to eat. The time was not, however,
unoccupied; I received such a lecture from Jane, as I have very seldom
heard, and she was so angry with me that we did not speak to each other
for two weeks.

At length she found something to complain of against me, had me
subjected to a penance, which led to our begging each other's pardon,
and we became perfectly satisfied, reconciled, and as good friends as
ever.

One of the most disgusting penances we ever had to submit to, was that
of drinking the water in which the Superior had washed her feet. Nobody
could ever laugh at this penance except Jane Ray. She would pretend to
comfort us, by saying, she was sure it was better than mere plain, clear
water.

Some of the tricks which I remember, were played by Jane with nuns'
clothes. It was a rule that the oldest aprons in use should go to the
youngest received, and the old nuns were to wear all the new ones. On
four different occasions, Jane stole into the sleeping-room at night,
and unobserved by the watch, changed a great part of the aprons, placing
them by the beds of nuns to whom they did not belong. The consequence
was, that in the morning they dressed themselves in such haste, as never
to discover the mistakes they made, until they were all ranged at
prayers; and then the ridiculous appearance which many of them cut,
disturbed the long devotions. I laugh so easily, that on such occasions,
I usually incurred a full share of penances, I generally, however, got a
new apron, when Jane played this trick; for it was part of her object,
to give the best aprons to her favourites, and put off the ragged ones
on some of the old nuns whom she most hated.

Jane once lost her pocket-handkerchief. The penance for such an offence
is, to go without any for five weeks. For this she had no relish, and
requested me to pick one from some of the nuns on the way up-stairs. I
succeeded in getting two: this Jane said was one too many; and she
thought it dangerous for either of us to keep it, lest a search should
be made. Very soon the two nuns were complaining that they had lost
their handkerchiefs, and wondering what could have become of them, as
they were sure that they had been careful. Jane seized an opportunity,
and slipped one into a straw bed, where it remained until the bed was
emptied to be filled with new straw.

As the winter was coming on, one year, she complained to me that we were
not as well supplied with warm night-clothes as two of the nuns she
named, whom she said she "abominated." She soon after found means to get
possession of their fine warm flannel nightgowns, one of which she gave
to me, while the other she put on at bed time. She presumed the owners
would have a secret search for them; and in the morning hid them in the
stove, after the fire had gone out, which was kindled a little before
the hour of rising, and then suffered to burn down.

This she did every morning, taking them out at night, through the
winter. The poor nuns who owned the garments were afraid to complain of
their loss, lest they should have some penance laid on them, and nothing
was ever said about them. When the weather began to grow warm in the
spring Jane returned the nightgowns to the beds of the nuns, from whom
she had borrowed them, and they were probably as much surprised to find
them again, as they had before been at losing them.

Jane once found an opportunity to fill her apron with a quantity of fine
apples, called _fameuses_, which came in her way, and, hastening up
to the sleeping-room, hid them under my bed. Then, coming down, she
informed me, and we agreed to apply for leave to make our elevens, as it
is called. The meaning of this is, to repeat a certain round of prayers,
for nine days in succession, to some saint we choose to address for
assistance, in becoming more charitable, affectionate or something else.
We easily obtained permission, and hastened up-stairs to begin our nine
days' feast on the apples; when, much to our surprise, they had all been
taken away, and there was no way to avoid the disagreeable fate we had
brought upon ourselves. Jane therefore began to search the beds of the
other nuns; but not finding any trace of the apples, she became doubly
vexed and stuck pins in those which belonged to her enemies.

When bedtime came, they were much scratched in getting in bed, which
made them break silence, and that subjected them to penances.

CHAPTER XIII.

Jane Ray's Tricks continued--The Broomstick Ghost--Sleep-walking--Salted
Cider--Changing Beds--Objects of some of her Tricks--Feigned Humility--
Alarm--Treatment of a new Nun--A nun made by stratagem.

One night, Jane, who had been sweeping the sleeping-room, for a penance,
dressed up the broom-stick, when she had completed her work, with a
white cloth on the end, so tied as to resemble an old woman dressed in
white, with long arms sticking out. This she stuck through a broken pane
of glass, and placed it so that it appeared to be looking in at the
window, by the font of holy water. There it remained until the nuns came
up to bed. The first who stopped at the font, to dip her finger in,
caught a glimpse of the singular object, and started with terror. The
next was equally terrified, as she approached, and the next and the
next.

We all believed in ghosts; and it was not wonderful that such an object
should cause alarm, especially as it was but a short time after the
death of one of the nuns. Thus they went on, each getting a fright in
turn, yet all afraid to speak. At length, one more alarmed, or with less
presence of mind than the rest, exclaimed, "Oh, mon Dieu! Je ne me
coucherais pas!" When the night-watch called out, "Who's that?" she
confessed she had broken silence, but pointed at the cause; and then,
all the nuns assembling at a distance from the window, Jane offered to
advance boldly, and ascertain the nature of the apparition, which they
thought a most resolute intention. We all stood looking on, when she
stepped to the window, drew in the broomstick, and showed us the
ridiculous puppet, which had alarmed so many superstitious fears.

Some of her greatest feats she performed as a sleep walker. Whether she
ever walked in her sleep or not, I am unable with certainty, to say. She
however often imposed upon the Superior and old nuns, by making them
think so, when I knew she did not; and yet, I cannot positively say that
she always did. I have remarked, that one of the old nuns was always
placed in our sleeping-room at night, to watch us. Sometimes she would
be inattentive, and sometimes fall into a doze. Jane Ray often seized
such times to rise from her bed, and walk about, occasionally seizing
one of the nuns in bed, in order to frighten her. This she generally
affected; and many times we have all been awakened, by screams of
terror. In our alarm, some of us frequently broke silence, and gave
occasion to the Superior to lay us under penances. Many tunes, however,
we escaped with a mere reprimand, while Jane usually received
expressions of compassion:--"Poor creature! she would not do so if she
were in perfect possession of her reason." And Jane displayed her
customary artfulness, in keeping up the false impression. As soon as she
perceived that the old nun was likely to observe her, she would throw
her arms about, or appear unconscious of what she was doing, falling
upon a bed, or standing stock-still, until exertions had been made to
rouse her from her supposed lethargy.

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